


It's Not a Date (Unless I Pay for Dinner)

by Vitamin_Me



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, No cheating, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitamin_Me/pseuds/Vitamin_Me
Summary: Clary cancels their date last minute, but Simon ends up having a good time despite himself.Inspired by this tumblr post (http://hopelessfountainkinkdom.tumblr.com/post/156554425519/im-not-saying-interesting-but).





	It's Not a Date (Unless I Pay for Dinner)

**Author's Note:**

> My first work on AO3! Inspired by the amazing [Scalira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scalira/pseuds/scalira)! Make sure you check out her amazing saphael (and more) fics!

_So so sorry but I won’t be able to make our date tonight_

_There was a demon attack in the Bronx_

_Iz partner is sick so I had to backup_

_I thought we’d be back sooner but the demon turned out to be really gross_

_Don’t worry we’re safe! But still have to debrief and ichor duty_

_I won’t be good company for our date anyway_ _L_

_I’m really sorry, I should have let you know sooner!_

_Sorry again! I’ll make it up to you I promise!_

_**_

Simon stares at his phone disbelief, reading his texts over for the tenth time as if that might somehow improve the content. Of fucking course, the one night he decides to finally shell out big money to take Clary somewhere fancy – as in, best downworlder restaurant in all of Manhattan fancy, prepaid reservations 3 months in advance fancy, had to beg Magnus to help him pick out a suit fancy – she stands him up for a demon.  

Probably should have told her what he planned instead of making it a surprise, Simon thinks morosely. Maybe she would have tried harder to make it if she knew how much it cost. It’s a nice thought but Simon is too disappointed to fool himself tonight; he knows Clary better than anyone, so he also knows that despite all the terrible things that have happened since their discovery of the shadow world (like, oh let’s just pick a random example, her best friend _dying_ ), Clary has found a real purpose with her new identity and takes the job very seriously. All of which is to say that compared to the prospect of protecting people from rampaging demons, fancy dinners that cost half of Simon’s credit card limit never stood a chance.

Simon groans and buries his face in his hands. He’s debating if it would be better to save himself the humiliation of dining alone and forego his prepayment ( _“it’s a sunk cost!” He can practically hear the screeching voice of his economics professor_ \- and boy, wouldn’t he be disappointed to learn that Simon has not only fallen prey to economic fallacies, but has also fallen prey to _bloody_ _vampires_ and _died?)_ when suddenly the familiar scent of sea salt and leather tickles at his senses and his head snaps up.  

Sure enough, a familiar face smirks back at him from across the table. “Is it a millennial thing to take _yourself_ out for fancy dates now, or is this just the best you can do?”

Great. It’s barely 9pm and Simon’s already having a bad day; his neck is sore from the canoe, his mother called again to question his life choices, Clary cancelled their date, and now _Raphael_ of all people is sitting where the love of his life ought to be.

“Why is it that you just can’t leave me alone?” Simon hisses, barely keeping his volume at an acceptable level, “don’t you have some innocent children to victimize, or hard working single mothers to threaten? What, are you so desperate for attention you’re picking up shadowhunter rejects now? **”**

Raphael looks taken aback by his hostility, eyes widening a fraction before narrowing into a nasty glare. The tense silence goes on for so long that Simon seriously considers storming out, prepaid reservations be damned. Eventually, however, Raphael seems to come to a decision and exhales a long breath through his nose, shoulders dropping.

“Lily told me you were here,” Raphael says carefully, eyeing Simon like he might start foaming at the mouth, “she said you looked like you could use some company.”

“Oh.”

And just like that, all the anger rushes out of Simon like a punctured balloon, and he’s left feeling a little tired and a lot embarrassed. “That’s… nice of her, I guess. I didn’t know she’s here.” 

“Well, her exact words were ‘the misery rolling off him in waves is bad for business’, but I paraphrased for your sake.” The smirk is back, if a little tentative, but Simon can see the teasing for what it is now. It’s almost nice, in a way that reminds him of butting heads with Raphael before the incident. The resistance is still real, but there’s no undercurrent of resentment like their more recent interactions.

“Lily isn’t here physically, but the manager reports to her. This restaurant is owned by the clan, you know.”

“Oh,” Simon says, and it feels like he’s been saying that a lot tonight, “like how Luke’s pack owns Jade Wolf and Hunters Moon?”

“Revolting establishments run by boorish people.” Raphael sniffs haughtily, and Simon surprises them both with a snort of laughter. Because as much as Simon loves Luke like a dad and thinks Maia is the personification of awesome, there is no denying that the tables are as sticky as the floors, and Simon’s pretty sure spitting in a customer’s drink – even Jace’s – is a health code violation. 

“So, how does the great Raphael Santiago keep miserable rejected fledglings company?” Simon grins, determined to hold onto the mood now that it’s lightened a bit. “Recite all 600 years of vampire history? Powerpoint presentation on your plans for world domination?”

Raphael rolls his eyes, but then he leans his elbows on the table, suddenly serious. “Now that you are dating the redheaded shadowhunter, I thought it’s about time someone filled you in on vampire courtship rituals. They can be quite elaborate and are taken very seriously, especially since vampires mate for life.”

Simon chokes on nothing. “What, really??”

Raphael stares without blinking.

“No.”

Simon gives him a sour look. “You’re not funny.”

“I beg to disagree.” Raphael leans back in his chair, looking rather pleased with himself. “You forget that Magnus used to date Camille. Things cannot possibly be permanent if choices like that were allowed.” And Simon has to concede that yeah, he’s got a point there.

Their waitress choses that moment to appear, and Raphael smiles charmingly up at her as she goes through the customary greetings. Simon is suddenly struck with the memory of the last time he saw that smile – posing as his band manager in a mundane coffee shop, directed at his oblivious mother. _Face of an innocent angel,_ he recalls Magnus saying, and Simon wonders if Raphael even needs his encanto or if that smile alone is enough to get him anything he wants.

“… already have on file?”

Simon blinks back to reality and both Raphael and their waitress – he didn’t even catch her name – are looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah? I mean, um, yes?”

“Excellent.” Raphael grins at him wolfishly, and Simon wonders what on earth he had just agreed to. “I’ve always wanted to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

Shit.

**

Raphael actually _does_ order the most expensive thing on the menu, that _little shit_ , some bright blue concoction – horseshoe crab? Simon didn’t even know they _had_ blood, plus they look like _Facehuggers_ for god’s sake – with an alarming number of zeros after the dollar sign. This, of course, leads to Simon bemoaning the state of his student loans, which leads to talk of his accounting and musical (non-)careers, and then Simon is homesick again because didn’t his mother promise this exact conversation in that coffee shop? That, in turn, starts off a discussion about their mothers, and Simon learns about Guadalupe Santiago and her seven – seven! – children, and his heart breaks a little at the thought of Raphael cooking every Sunday for his 78-year-old little sister.

The conversation flows easily from there, and Simon goes on an emotional roller coaster that he most definitely did not sign up for. He feels guilty for never noticing this softer, funnier side to Raphael. Frustrated that Raphael insists on playing the cold, scheming vampire overlord that Simon was so ready to believe. The tragic story of Raphael’s Turning is recounted so matter-of-factly that Simon didn’t know if he should feel sad or horrified, and is left in awe that Raphael can even _function,_ let alone stand up to the world every night and win. Simon also feels stupid for ever thinking that Magnus would side with him against Raphael, and he realizes now that not only would Magnus be willing to take on the entire world for his vampire son, but is also starting to understand why.

It’s a mess of emotions that Simon ismost definitely not prepared for, and he briefly regrets ordering the blood spiked with not only alcohol but also a hint of magic mushrooms, because every feeling is amplified and what kind of lens is he supposed to see Raphael through now? Curse him for revealing depth and complexity when Simon is only equipped to deal with one-dimensional cartoon villains!

At one point there is a lull in the conversation while Raphael checks his phone – _shut up, it’s not bad manners if it’s relevant to running this very business_ – and Simon takes the opportunity to just look at him. The suit Raphael’s wearing is red, which shouldn’t be a revelation because it’s not like the colour changed in the past hour, but it is. Simon doesn’t think he’s ever seen a man in a red suit before, which seems ridiculous now because it looks really good on him. It looks fucking amazing, actually, because Raphael always looks stunning, and the words are out of his mouth before his filter has a chance to catch them.

“Do you wear make-up?” Simon asks, and Raphael’s eyes snap up sharply. “I mean, not that you need it, but you just told me that you’re like bffs with Magnus and he has to have experimented on you at some point, hasn’t he? And your eyebrows are so perfect, like, all the time, do you pencil them in? I bet you do, or maybe you use one of those little mascara things like my sister does, because I refuse to believe you just wake up looking like that, that wouldn’t be _fair_ and even Jace said sexy vampire mojo isn’t a real thing.”

A beat of silence passes while Raphael blinks at him, seemingly stunned. Then, much to Simon’s dismay, the corner of his pink, plush looking lips – _what the hell, Simon, definitely no more shrooms for you_ – lifts up into a smirk.

“You think I’m sexy, hmm?”

Simon gives him a dirty look.

“I liked you better when you were too mean to be funny.”

Raphael laughs at that, a full, throw your head back and show off your fangs kind of laugh, and Simon couldn’t help the grin that breaks out on his face to match.

“Trust me, fledgling, if I were dolling myself up you would notice.” The look in Raphael’s eyes is dark and just a little curious, and Simon fights the urge to squirm. He laughs weakly, but the conversation appears to have taken a turn when he wasn’t paying attention and Simon doesn’t know how to navigate it anymore. He clears his throat.

“Um, we should, ah, probably get going? I’m sure you’ve got things to go, people to do…”

Raphael stares at him for another moment while Simon fidgets in his seat, feeling drunker than he had any right to be given he’d only had one glass. Eventually, Raphael shakes his head and calls for the bill.

Their waitress – he still doesn’t know her name, damn it – is courteous and prompt, and Simon swears he feels his heart stop for the second time as the stares at the tiny slip of paper. He wonders if he’ll exceed his daily maximum embarrassment quota if he asks her to double check that the decimal place is correct, when Raphael plucks it right out of his hand and hands the waitress a sleek black card like it’s nothing.

“Save your money for your little shadowhunter girlfriend, Simon.” Raphael chides, superior as ever. “And maybe don’t go to restaurants you can’t afford in the first place. Panicked despair is not a good look on you.”

Simon gives him a surly look, but even he has to admit that insulting the person who just saved you from financial ruin is a dick move, so he bites back the smart retort on the tip of his tongue. “Thank you.” He murmurs instead, quietly but sincerely, and pretends not to feel a little stab of guilt at Raphael’s look of surprise.

Thankfully, Raphael recovers quickly and is back to being smug before Simon could even blink. “And because I am such a gentleman, I’ll even walk you home.”

Simon gives him a deer-in-headlights look and Raphael rolls his eyes. “I need to talk to Luke about some of his pack members’ disgusting territory marking habits,” and wow, Simon really doesn’t want to know, “and maybe if I had you with me, they won’t slobber all over my new suit with their pathetic attempts at intimidation.”

“If you wanted me to protect you with my manly presence, you should have just said so.” Simon grins as they step out into the night.

Raphael huffs an amused breath. “Alright then, Lancelot,” and oh, Simon is _delighted_ by where this is heading, “let’s see how well you do protecting my virtue.”

**

“You look happy. I’d assume your date went well, but then why would you be here?” Maia muses as she slides back into the booth across from him. Simon had originally planned to spend the rest of his evening going to the laundromat, visiting Clary, and avoiding his mother’s calls - just regular Simon-ish activities – but instead he followed Raphael into the Jade Wolf and is currently getting his ass handed to him in a game of Dominion.  

He and Raphael had traded banter all the way back to the docks, and Simon was left riding on a giddy high that he just knows will keep him up all night. He feels hyperaware and distracted all at once, borderline euphoric, and he can’t seem to wipe the grin off his face no matter how hard he tries. It was all he could do to suppress the uncontrollable giggles threatening to bubble out from under his skin. Luke had given him a questioning look and suggested they have a seat together, but Raphael made such an appalled face at the sticky booth that Simon had to make himself scarce before he did something to undermine the authority of _both_ leaders.

“… earth to Simon?”

Simon looks back at Maia – _why was he staring at Raphael’s suit again?_ – and grimaces at her curious look.

“Sorry Maia, I’m just um, feeling a bit wired. Must be the spiked blood I had for dinner.”

Maia raises her eyebrows at him. “I’ll say. What do they even put in your drinks there? You look like you’re going to explode from excitement. I blatantly cheated in the last two games and you’re not even a little bit upset.”

“Unicorn blood, probably,” Simon laughs, “at least that’s what you’d think from the price tag. Thank g-“ he chokes, because what’s un-life without constant reminders of his eternal damnation? “ _Luckily_ , Raphael was feeling generous, otherwise I would’ve had to mortgage the boathouse and I don’t think Luke would be too pleased with that.”

 “You had dinner with _Raphael_?” Maia looks genuinely shocked and oops, Simon may have skipped ahead of that uncomfortable piece of information. “I thought you were on a date with Clary?"

“Clary cancelled.” Simon shrugs with forced nonchalance. “Demon attack. They’re all safe, she just couldn’t make it out in time. And Raphael just happened to be there and, uh, good thing he was because this place is so fancy they make you prepay for reservations and that’s like a whole set of winter tires I was never getting back, you know?”

“Your van basically runs on determination more than gas at this point, so there’s no way I’d believe you buy winter tires, but I’ll let that slide.” Maia says, leaning back to sort her cards. “What’s the deal with you two anyway? I thought he wanted you dead?”

“It’s… complicated,” Simon says lamely, because it is. Simon doesn’t know how to reconcile the shoving and the threats and _I’m disappointed in you_ with carrying his dead body to the Institute, lending him his fancy suits, _advisor to the interim chapter president_ and, just to muddy the waters even more, keeping him company and paying for dinner even though he expected Simon to be an ungrateful ass about it. 

Maia narrows her eyes and tilts her head to the side in a move that reminds Simon of a puppy. A confused, but suspicious, puppy.

“Is that what your facebook status says?” Maia teases, “what will Clary say when she finds out you’ve been cheating on her with Mr. Grumpypants over there?”

“He can hear you, you know.” Simon hisses, glancing anxiously over at where the Luke and Raphael are standing by kitchen door. Fortunately, the two leaders appear to be too engrossed in their verbal dick measuring contest to pay them any mind.

“Ohhh, better not remind your sugar daddy about your girlfriend, in case he stops taking you on fancy dates, hmm?” Maia wiggles her eyebrows, and Simon swears her grin has taken on a distinctly wolf-life appearance.

“Maia, come on,” Simon pleads, “this is the first time in weeks that he talked to me without any shoving, and I still don’t know where I stand with the Clan. The last thing I need is for him to think we’re making fun of him.”

“Alright, alright,” Maia finally takes pity on him, showing her palms in a placating gesture. “Did you have a good time, at least? It wasn’t awkward?”

“You know what? I did, and it wasn’t.” And Simon knows it’s the truth as soon as the words left his mouth. He can’t help but glance over at Raphael again, and startles badly when he sees that Raphael is staring right at them with an unreadable expression, while Luke seems to be searching for something on his phone. Simon quickly looks away again, and silently prays that the embarrassed flush he can _feel_ rising his neck isn’t strong enough to be visible.

Maia, of course, misses nothing. “Best date you’ve ever been on, I’m guessing?”

Simon rolls his eyes at her, mock offended, but there’s a little smile that won’t stop tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Think you’re gonna put out later?”

“Maia!”

**

Simon tries not to think too hard about what that says about him, that one of the best dates he’s ever been on – except it wasn’t, except it felt like one - was with not only a _guy_ but his kidnapper/saviour/frenemy/former vampire boss whom he had been actively antagonizing only days ago.

But when he goes to sleep in the boat house that morning, Simon dreams not of hair like fire, but of candlelight glittering like stars in eyes so dark he almost can’t bear to look away. And somewhere in the back of his mind there is a tiny voice that wasn’t there yesterday, whispering _maybe, just…_ _maybe._

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before the end of Season 2A, so it ignores some of the more recent developments. Thanks for reading and let me know your thoughts!


End file.
